The Heroes' Hero
by DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: Bucky didn't want to go to the parade. Even if he isn't exactly the centre of attention, his presence there feels wrong, unsuitable, even. Clint disagrees - and he's not the only one. (Winterhawk Week Day 2: Disability)


**AN: **(23.9.14) So chapter 26 of Gently saw Clint telling Bucky: "I bet there's a little kid out there with a prosthetic arm who wants to be as cool as you when he or she grows up.", and enviropony left this lovely comment on AO3 saying, at the end: "I wanna meet the kid!". I thought, 'yeah, me too', et voila. ;-)

Happy Winterhawk Week everybody!

* * *

><p><span>The Heroes' Hero<span>

It had been Steve's idea to attend the new Hero Parade going through New York. he rest of the team weren't so sure - it was for local heroes, policemen and firemen and the like - but then Steve went to Pepper and Pepper made it official. "Don't look at me," Tony had said after she'd left to finalise arrangements; "She's the love of my life. She knows all my weak spots and has an extensive supply of blackmail." Behind his back, Clint and Peter exchanged an excited look. "And if anyone goes looking for said blackmail I will squash you like a bug and hide your favourite toys."

Pepper had them wait at the conclusion of the parade in Central Park. She and the event organisers had agreed it would be a surprise for the servicemen and women, and Steve even wrote a speech for them. Bucky thought it was a bit much, but knew it meant a lot to Steve. Hell, Steve would see a hero in anyone if given the chance - Bucky believed himself to be a prime example of that for a while. Sometimes he still struggled to see himself the way his best friend did, but Clint was always there to disagree.

"You'd think they'd be less than thrilled to see us considering how much mess we make for them on an irregular basis," he muttered to the archer as they mingled with the local heroes.

Clint snorted. "Come on - without us they'd be bored."

"Without us they'd have more money to spend on improving their own stations."

"Without us they wouldn't have stations to improve." Bucky huffed, and Clint frowned at him. "You okay?"

He ducked his head, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. As much as he wanted to say he was fine, to put on a smile and convince Clint there wasn't anything the matter, they'd both agreed to stop doing exactly that on the grounds that talking to each other did, actually help. And it wasn't like they would tell the others afterwards. So Bucky shrugged, admitting, "Just don't really feel like I belong here, that's all."

Hearing Clint sigh, he waited for the berating words to follow. "Yeah, I... I kind of feel the same." Bucky raised his head, confused, and Clint smiled self-deprecatingly at him. "I mean, I'm standing here with two super-soldiers, a spider-powered kid, a man who's effectively a warship, a god, two Russian super-assassins, a dude who can fly and an indestructible rage monster, when all I really do is run around on rooftops playing Robin Hood like an overgrown kid." He shook his head. "I ain't a superhero."

"Hey," Bucky snapped, "that is bullshit. You belong here as much as the others."

"Do I?"

"Of course!"

"You're just saying that."

"No I'm not - stop being stupid."

"I'm only being stupid 'cause you're being stupid."

His words stopped Bucky short, and he let the argument drop. Clint's point was well-made, as always. There was no use trying to argue with him in the middle of a parade; besides, there were real heroes here, and even if he didn't feel particularly comfortable being lauded as one he could show his appreciation for them like everyone else.

It didn't take long for Clint to end up in conversation with the fire dog handlers, and Bucky left him to it as he sought out some breathing space (crowds were a little more bearable than they were a year or so ago, but a momentary break was always welcome). He was watching an American flag ripple in the light breeze from someone's window when he felt it - the being-watched-prickle on the back of his neck, and he looked down until his eyes fell on a little girl watching him a few paces away. Her dark brown hair was in a low ponytail, so the full force of her gaze had him pinned where he stood, but it wasn't her eyes - big, green, with a hint of sadness - that caught his attention. It was her long-sleeved shirt, despite the early summer heat, and how at odds it seemed with her denim shorts and flip flops.

Smiling, Bucky closed the distance between them marginally and crouched down. "Hi."

"... Hi."

"What's your name?"

"Diana." She suddenly broke into a huge grin. "And you're Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier!"

Bucky chuckled. "Yep - you got me."

"Daddy didn't say you and the Avengers would be here!"

"Well, it was a surprise, you see," he said, finding himself grinning back at her. "I don't think your daddy knew either. I like your shirt, by the way."

Diana glanced down, plucking at the design. "It was my birthday present. I turned eight in April."

"Eight, huh?"

She nodded. "It's Ms Marvel 'cause she used to be my favourite superhero, but now it's you."

Bucky jerked his head back. "Me?"

"Yeah." She chewed her lower lip shyly for a moment, then ran over to him. "Um... Can I touch your arm?" Shocked further, he simply stared at her, and she began to fidget. "If that's okay. You don't have to say 'yes' if you don't want me to."

He shook himself out of his reverie. "No, it - it's okay." Palm opening from where he'd curled it into a fist, he held it out to her gently. "Go ahead."

Watching Diana's face light up as she inspected the joints of his fingers, the various plates all slotted together, and the red star up at the top, was something Bucky had never imagined possible. He'd seen Tony's face light up at the prospect of being able to poke and play with it; he'd seen Natasha regard it with revered awe as he used it on her and Steve during sparring; he'd seen Clint's gaze soften as he ran his fingers lightly over the metalwork, pressing kisses to the points of the star and holding the cold, hard hand tight in his own; but this, a child willingly exploring the thing that defined him as a killer with nothing but pure wonder in her eyes... Bucky was speechless.

"Is it metal on the inside?" Diana asked.

Swallowing, he nodded. "Yeah."

"So it covers your real arm?"

"No," he said, "it's all electric." He moved it around for her, showing her the whirring sounds of the gears and mechanics beneath the surface. She looked mesmerised.

"Whoa..." Her open jaw stretched into a wider smile, and she reached out to resume playing with his hand. "How did you lose your real arm?"

Bucky faltered again. Diana seemed oblivious, totally absorbed in making his fingers bend at different points. "I... fell," he said eventually, "from really high up."

"Oh." She moved to his elbow, poking her fingers between the inside of the join. "I lost mine when our house caught fire."

And that was when he noticed her right hand, and the plastic-y sheen it had, the way it didn't move as she prodded his plating. It was the reason her shirt had caught his eye in the first place. "Yeah," he murmured, then gave himself a mental slap. "I mean, sorry, Diana. That must've sucked."

"Mmh," she hummed, then beamed up at him. "But I did save my dog!"

"You did?"

"He got stuck under the bannister, so I went back in to help him, but when he got free I got stuck too, and the firemen had to rescue me."

"Wow," Bucky breathed. "Sounds like you were really brave."

Diana giggled, then jumped back to stand in front of him. "Do you wanna see my metal arm?"

"Uh -"

"It's not as cool as yours," she continued, already pulling up her sleeve, "because it only goes to my elbow. But I'll get better ones when I grow up - look!"

Sure enough, Bucky could see that her right forearm was made of - well, plastic, not metal, but she was excited about their shared feature, so he didn't say anything. Like she'd done to him, he inspected it closely, carefully testing the straps where it attached to the rest of her arm and nodding appreciatively. "This looks like a very good model," he said, trying to sound like a friendly Tony Stark. "It matches the colour of your real arm. Mine doesn't do that."

Giggling, Diana said, "I put stickers all over it at school once, and when Tyrone Mansford broke his arm, it was in a cast, so we had an arm sword fight!"

Bucky laughed. "I can't take mine off, so I don't think I could do that."

"But you fight real bad guys with your arm!"

"I do."

"I wanna do that one day."

He stared at her, unable to stop smiling. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"What would your superhero name be?"

"The Summer Soldier!" She jumped into a fighting stance, brows drawn together seriously. "I'd be as cool as you are, only I don't like winter very much besides Christmas, and if I was the Summer Soldier then I could have blaster beams like Ms Marvel, 'cause they look like sunbeams so they wouldn't work if I was the Winter Soldier. But I can't be the Winter Soldier anyway 'cause you're the Winter Soldier, and there can only be one, so..."

Awed by her enthusiasm, and the fact that this little girl wanted so badly to be like him, Bucky gave her his most sincere smile, vision slightly blurred, and told her, "I think you'd be a pretty awesome Summer Soldier." Diana looked utterly delighted.

"Diana!"

She turned on the spot. "Daddy!"

Bucky stood as she darted over to an approaching figure, throwing herself against his legs. "There you are! I thought I told you to stay with the truck, sweetheart." Bucky then took in his uniform, realising with a small pang in his chest that Diana's father was a fire-fighter.

"Daddy, look who I found!" Diana said, twisting round to point at Bucky. Her father looked up, and his jaw dropped.

Bucky smiled, raising a hand in greeting. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoed, sounding a little starstruck. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh, sorry about - she wasn't bothering you, was she?"

"Absolutely not," Bucky assured him, meeting his bewildered stare. "It was my genuine pleasure. But," he added, turning back to Diana, "if your dad says you have to stay by the truck, I reckon that's where you're needed most. Maybe practise defending it as the Summer Soldier." He winked, and she grinned, blinking back.

"Alright, say goodbye to Mr Ba- uh, the Winter Soldier honey."

Diana gave him a little wave. "Bye Bucky."

"Bye Diana." She turned to go with her dad, and Bucky found himself calling after her. When they stopped to look back at him, he came closer and crouched down at her level, holding out his left hand, palm up. "Can the Winter Soldier get a low five from the future Summer Soldier?"

She caught on quickly, slapping his metal hand with her own plastic one happily. Then, surprising him again, she threw both arms around his neck, nearly knocking him off balance, and squeezed gently. "Thank you for letting me see your arm," she said in his ear.

Bucky hugged her back, careful not to hold her too tightly. "And thanks for letting me see yours." She let go of him then, running back to her father. She left with one last wave over her shoulder, and Bucky just couldn't stop smiling.

"Not replacing me there, are you?"

Jumping a little, he turned to see Clint watching him with a smirk, a smirk that grew into a laugh when Bucky's cheeks turned faintly pink. "Shut up," he mumbled, grinning at the ground.

"She liked you," Clint said plainly once his laughter died down.

Still trying to process what had passed between him and Diana, Bucky shook his head in mild disbelief. "She said I was her favourite, Clint. And she was wearing a shirt with Carol on it!"

He nodded. "I met a kid who'd had hearing difficulties once," he said, "and he was the one telling me it was okay to be deaf. Little guy went through with some breakthrough surgery to get it fixed, but he still loved the fact I wear aids."

Bucky was hardly listening, an idea forming in his mind. "Do you think I could get Tony to work on something for her?" he asked absently.

Clint grinned. "Wow, it did not take long for her to wrap you around her little finger, huh?"

"She replaced you as my number one fan, so yeah." Clint laughed, moving closer to rest his hands on Bucky's waist. "I wanna help her, Clint. She's eight years old, she should get a chance to be a normal kid -"

"I know," he said softly. "I would've given anything to help that little guy get his hearing back if that surgery hadn't worked out. I've been that different kid."

With a sympathetic quirk of his lips, Bucky leaned in a quickly kissed the tip of his nose. Clint chased it up with a kiss to the lips that had Bucky rolling his eyes when they pulled apart. "Always gotta one-up me, don't you?"

"Shut up, old man, that was a congratulations-on-realising-you're-an-inspiration kiss." At Bucky's perplexed look, he clarified, "The little girl? Your number one fan? Her plan to be the Summer Soldier?"

He processed that idea, not used to being thought of as inspirational by anyone, ever. In his mind, it had always been Steve who inspired. "An inspiration?"

"Absolutely." Clint squeezed his hips. "There'll be loads of kids like her, Bucky. Hell, not just kids, either. And I know there are some assholes out there who are still dumb enough to think you don't deserve this, but everyone here, right now? They look at you and see a hero - for so many reasons." He grinned impishly. "And they can't all be wrong."

Warmth blossomed in his chest, and Bucky pulled Clint close enough for their foreheads to touch. "Thank you," he whispered tightly.

Clint smiled. "Always."

* * *

><p>Eleven months later, Bucky received a letter containing a photograph of nine-year-old Diana Waters and her brand new, Stark-prototype child's prosthetic, completely fully functional. An accompanying letter claimed that the Summer Soldier was looking forward to seeing her favourite superhero again at the parade next month. This time, it was Bucky who went to Pepper.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>I will very happily be taking prompts for Winterhawk Week, either on here or on Tumblr - don't be afraid to ask! We need to spread the Bucky/Clint love ;D (If you want to know more about Winterhawk Week, look for the blog of the same name - winterhawkweek - on Tumblr!)


End file.
